


the breaths between

by renecdote



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Buck and Eddie are in love and everyone knows it, Fluff, Gen, Implied Relationship, M/M, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:55:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29687757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renecdote/pseuds/renecdote
Summary: The angle is wrong for Buck and Eddie, but just right for Hen to see the small, quiet smile that Bobby hides by turning to grab something from the fridge. He’s at the edge of the scene, there but not fully present in the way that Buck and Eddie exist together. It’s like watching a Venn diagram in motion; Bobby and BuckandEddie and the space where they overlap, neatly labelled family. If Hen stretched the diagram out, added a few more circles, she and Chimney would fit just as neatly there as well.In which it's a slownot quietday at the station and Buck and Eddie are in love.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1)
Comments: 36
Kudos: 372





	the breaths between

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a warm up prompt by zee-gee on tumblr.

It’s a slow day—and not just because there aren’t many calls. It feels like everyone is moving through syrup, tacky and stilted. Bobby is sitting at the table by the railing, keeping half an eye on the crew moving around below as he sips coffee and fills out paperwork. Eddie is in the kitchen, making coffee, staring vacantly at the machine as it drips fresh coffee into the pot. Hen watches them both from her position at the dining table, medical textbooks and practice worksheets spread out around her. Buck and Chimney and the rest of the crew are all downstairs, checking and double checking inventory. Their voices, drifting up to the loft, sound more subdued than usual.

Hen taps her pen against the glossy pages of her anatomy book. It’s possible that everyone is just tired. She certainly is; it’s been that kind of week, long and draining. Their shift has been slow (not quiet; she doesn’t dare phrase it like that, even in the solitude of her own head). It makes Hen’s skin crawl, all the alertness of being on call having nowhere to go, nothing to burn off the energy that is so desperate to be released. 

Buck was particularly bad about that, in the early days. The restless energy. The need to be constantly talking, moving, _doing_. Hen loves him, but in those first few months in particular he drove her up the wall—still does, sometimes, although these days the person he chooses to annoy is usually Eddie. Eddie is more practiced at it. A holdover form the military, Hen guesses, a strange ability to exist in that murky place between On and Off for as long as he needs to. It grates on you though, the constant hum beneath your skin, the constant prickle of heightened senses. When there is a clatter downstairs—something dropped; something metal—they all jump. Bobby is halfway out of his seat before it catches up to him. The three of them look at each other, trading weak chuckles. 

Hen turns back to her textbook, tries to regain her focus, but she hears Bobby get up. He’s opening the fridge before he asks, “Anyone hungry?”

Bobby is always at his most comfortable in the kitchen. He likes cooking, shares his love through food, stress bakes when he can’t get his mind to quiet down enough to relax. He doesn’t bake so much at work, not with the possibility of a call interrupting at any time, but cooking—there is always cooking.

“What are we making?” Eddie asks. He looks more awake now, already reaching for a cutting board and knife, ready to help. 

It’s hard to say whether it’s noise from the kitchen or the smell as Bobby starts frying onion in a pan, but it doesn’t take long for Buck to come up the stairs. He beelines for the kitchen, pushing in close to Eddie’s side—much closer, Hen notes, than is actually needed to figure out what is going on. Eddie shifts, somehow making room for Buck to crowd into his space without pulling away. 

“If you’re here, you’re helping,” Bobby warns, and Buck just grins and picks up a wooden spoon.

“Can I stir?”

He’s already moving to do just that, eternally young in his enthusiasm. Hen smiles, looking at them. There’s only one person missing from the scene; and even as she looks around, Chimney is coming up to join her. He brandishes a pack of cards hopefully and Hen rolls her eyes. 

“I’m studying,” she tells him, even as she collects her textbooks and practice tests into a neater pile to make room for him. 

Chimney drops into the chair across from her, tipping the cards out of their pack and shuffling them with practised movements. “You’ve been studying all day,” he points out. “Sparing ten minutes for me to beat you at cards will do you some good.”

“Oh you think you’re going to beat me?”

In the kitchen, Eddie lets Buck steal a piece of carrot off the cutting board—probably not for the first time, from the way Bobby’s voice hits that particularly exasperated tone that means _am I the only responsible adult around here?_ when says, “Some of that actually has to make it into the pan, you know. Do you want to be eating takeout for dinner?”

The quiet, syrupy stillness from before has been broken. It feels like coming up from being underwater, bursting into the open air and having the world unmute, sounds and colours and warmth rushing back in. Hen’s mind is still buzzing, anticipation humming beneath her skin; she knows for experience that isn’t going to stop until she showers the shift off and goes home. But it feels… less, cottoned under the warmth of her team filling the space around her.

“Do you think they realise?”

Chimney’s voice draws her out of her contemplation. He nods toward the kitchen, where Buck and Eddie have switched places, Buck chopping mushrooms while Eddie leans against the counter beside him, nodding along while Buck rambles about—cocoa beans? Hen feels like she has definitely missed a link (or ten) in the conversation there. As they watch, Buck passes the chopped mushrooms off to Bobby and as he turns, Eddie’s hand presses against his back. Deliberate. Grounding. Whatever he says is too quiet for more than the fond tone to reach them at the dining table, but it makes Buck smile, sweet and unrestrained. 

The angle is wrong for Buck and Eddie, but just right for Hen to see the small, quiet smile that Bobby hides by turning to grab something from the fridge. He’s at the edge of the scene, there but not fully present in the way that Buck and Eddie exist together. It’s like watching a Venn diagram in motion; Bobby and BuckandEddie and the space where they overlap, neatly labelled _family_. If Hen stretched the diagram out, added a few more circles, she and Chimney would fit just as neatly there as well.

Chopping done, Buck reaches for Eddie’s coffee cup and Eddie slaps his hand away, shaking his head at Buck’s exaggerated pout. Undeterred, Buck wheedles his way in to try again. It’s hard to say what exactly Chimney means with that question— _do they realise?_ —but Hen can take an educated guess.

“That they’re hopelessly in love with each other?”

“Nah.” Chimney shakes his head. They watch Eddie give up the cup of coffee with a fond eye roll and pull another mug down from the cupboard to make a new one. “I mean, do they realise it’s as obvious to everyone else as it is to them?”

There is nothing vacant about the way Eddie looks at the coffee machine now; nothing subdued about Buck. They look… comfortable. Settled. Happy. When Bobby shoos them out of the kitchen, they go together, falling into the couch as one, shoulder-to-shoulder even though it’s really not necessary with the space. Chim’s right; it’s obvious. Honestly, it’s been obvious for a while. Hen doesn’t know if they’ve actually done anything about it—she’s not sure she’d be able to tell if they had, just from the way they act at work—but it doesn’t really matter.

She smiles; shrugs. “I don’t think they care.”

The station smells amazing now, herbs and spices and something Hen doesn’t know how to explain except for that it feels like comfort. Chimney beats her at cards—twice—but Hen gets back at him by roping him into helping her study. Buck and Eddie migrate over, grabbing flashcards of their own to quiz her with, legs tangling beneath the table. Even Bobby joins them, taking a moment while the lasagne sits in the oven, all of them gathered around talking and laughing as the time stretches out between calls.

The slow days can be hard, but Hen would be lying if she said she didn’t also love them.

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone curious, the missing link in Buck and Eddie’s conversation was to do with chocolate and mushroom, which, yes, is a legitimate (albeit niche) food combination that exists.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading. Kudos and comments are love 💛 And you can also find me on tumblr [here](https://renecdote.tumblr.com/).


End file.
